


Streets in the Sky

by ackersucker (hachiOichi)



Series: The Jilted Generation [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 90's UK dance scene, Blood and Violence, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, ravers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hachiOichi/pseuds/ackersucker
Summary: This is sort of a draft. I'm rather neurotic when it comes to dates, and wanted this out today. Will be back to correct fuck ups, add a nice illustration and so on.If you're still reading this, I'm planning on adding a track to each chapter, since the story is so intertwined with the music they listen to.Song for this piece would be Under the Influence by Chemical Brothers.Enjoy!





	Streets in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a draft. I'm rather neurotic when it comes to dates, and wanted this out today. Will be back to correct fuck ups, add a nice illustration and so on.
> 
> If you're still reading this, I'm planning on adding a track to each chapter, since the story is so intertwined with the music they listen to.
> 
> Song for this piece would be Under the Influence by Chemical Brothers.
> 
> Enjoy!

  


Chapter 1

Under the Influence

 

An abandoned warehouse in the northern outskirts of the city jams with repetitive sounds. The loud monotonous beat can be heard a mile away of its concrete shell, not like anyone around could be disturbed anyway. A sea of vehicles gather around the building, owners keen on proving whose stereo blasts louder while stray partygoers dance like lost puppies to the plethora of intertwining techno tracks. A bunch of them sip out of a cheap booze jug, lousy plonk meant to poison rats rather than intoxicate actual humans, but most have had their fix already, the supply of pills never coming short in this type of assembly. Inside, the tunes bounce back on bare, decaying walls, but no one cares about the suboptimal sound quality - not like most of them are in their right mind to notice.

Not a huge crowd tonight, there must be around a couple hundred ravers in the place, ranging between fifteen and twenty something and seeking for a hideout that offers evasion for the ones with little prospects of future, the helpful aid of whatever brain killer available always welcome. A real pity that there must always be someone willing to fuck it up and spoil the fun. Such a drag that one must stop having a blast to put them on their place.

It’s still rather alien, to have himself this pumped up. At sixteen, Levi was a lad who unlike many of his peers, chose his drugs with ridiculous precision for someone his age. When, what and how much were always decided beforehand, and he would follow his self-imposed schedule with meticulous zeal.

He never binged or went out of hand. Not because he saw no gain in being trashed and gone for a while - any chance of losing focus from his bleak life sounded pretty alluring for sure, but because he’d grown up conditioned to maintain an acceptable control over his body and actions, whatever situation may arise. He had learnt about the importance of having the ability for a fast response at a very young age.

Even so, he does drugs as any other soul would in this environment, but Levi only goes loaded in days long partying that require a little extra help, or in the particular case of the drug he’s taking tonight, only when he’s about do something _wrong._ Some may think it shows a lack of courage to affront trouble in a clear-headed state. He’d never waste a second of his time trying to convince anyone of the contrary, not when he’s not so sure about it himself. Either way, he’s lucky his sister chose this place for her _bussiness_ tonight, a most generous discount offered as it was usual between them, for he wouldn’t be able to afford the high otherwise.

Levi and his mates converge in a corner afar from the dj, plotting, further encouraging the hatred with the use of acrid rally. Their heated eyes land on another group of lads, deprecating the cocky Mancunians and their yuppie attitude with no reserves.

There was this unfortunate incident last week, when one of those fuckers tried to scam Finnie, the most vulnerable of their lot, selling him some chalk powder instead of the stuff he’d paid some nice 30 pounds for. The miserable shits had gone and ripped the one boy who was too dim-witted to notice what he got wasn’t by any means the speed he’d sought for.

Levi was told things had escalated until both gangs were involved. An intense argument followed, an interlude which was bound to be fruitless to begin with, and soon everyone was dragged into a massive brawl. The damsels were soon forced to leave the place with their tails between their legs, but oh dear lord, here they were, daring to show their sorry arses around Sheffield only days after, sort of asking for more.

Levi thinks those piss heads aren’t the ones at fault for showing such suicidal bravery, but his own friends’ for failing to deliver a more explicit message last time, but he’s certain they’re getting it fixed this time with the way obscure threats soar high around him, born from a loyal sense of pack and multiplied by stimulant drugs. The invaders, brand clothed brats who know shit about how dangerous scoundrel can get when their territory is invaded, are finally aware decimation is about to land on them, and make a somewhat dissimulated retreat.

But that’s not enough. People who bring bad vibes and discord to these parties need to understand they’re not welcome. What they have in store is also pretty disquieting, but do never accuse a rascal of being wrong when dispensing that kind of revulsive. They wouldn’t understand. So they trail after them, all seven boys following the trail of their natural leader.

Erwin goes on head, his face set to stone since he landed eyes on their prey. Tall and with an imposing demeanor, he is the brain, the calmed guy who always comes across the best solution at hand, even if it means blood. Their pack moves in the confident stroll of those who know themselves winners, grins feral and hands nervous with the urge to yank teeth outta their gums.  

The posh guys fall onto the trap like only lesser animals would. They’re surrounded on both sides of a corridor, no escape in sight. Erwin steps towards them, mind revising the threatening words he’s going to use, how he’s gonna make their pants wet with liquid shit thus preventing them from ever setting foot on one of these raves again. He’s always in for a bit of hearty mindfuck, always eager to prove he can achieve just as much using a razor sharp mind instead of blunt fists.

Yet, it seems him nor his friends aren’t the only resourceful kids in town, and one of the Manchester rats, the one with a rather unhinged demeanor, produces a knife and lurches for Erwin.

Blue eyes widen at the motion, not expecting this outcome from the apparently bland guys, but panic cannot quite get a hold of him with the safe net by his side. It never could with Levi watching his back. It was in fact unfortunate that he wasn’t there in the previous quarrel, for they would have never come back otherwise. They won’t after tonight.

Making use of his barely human reaction span, he surprises all guys around him leaping like a hound towards the hand closing into Erwin, twisting it in a way that makes the knife clatter on the concrete, the poor imbecile screaming in pain at the wrecked angle his arm got into, his knees on the ground and Levi’s knuckles reshaping his face way before he’s got the time to assimilate how and when any of this happened.

The friends of the guy, pansy cowards as they are, take a run to the exit, leaving the bloody mate in Levi’s hands. Not that he’s going to, but he could finish him right then and there and they wouldn’t even interfere. What a sense of camaraderie. Definitely not the way things are among them.

“Don’t ever come here again,” he warns in a flat tone, now that he’s regained some sanity and doesn’t feel like smashing the face of this bitch who dared yield a blade against one of his own. A blade to _Erwin_ no less, the nerve.

With that last threat, they all leave the corridor, not caring if anyone’s gonna help the wimp, and resume partying. That’s how it is, and it speaks volumes of the environment they live in, this utter lack of reflection in the face of such a violent incident.

They soon find out not everyone is necessarily used to the sight of blood, and indeed, some subnormal must have called the police cause in less than fifteen the place is crowded with officers running, trying to catch as many kids as possible, using all ways and force they’re capable of. Many are lucky enough to break out the building, finding escape routes like nervous mice, scattering in a chaotic flee that renders Bobbies as confused as dumb hunters that yearn to shoot all the flock yet they get nothing down in wake of their fucking greed.

Levi and Erwin lose sight of their mates on the tumultuous bolt. They run carefree, police car lights left behind as they cross the field under a dark sky. They look at each other in their haste, considering themselves above all good and wrong, laughing like fucking idiots high on adrenaline.

Hopeful, like only kids are able to, that the good fun days will never reach their end.

 


End file.
